


Stupid, Pretty, Little Things

by AbsinthexMind



Series: Oh brother where art thou [20]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dubcon Kissing, F/M, Incest, Joffrey Baratheon is his own warning, Mildly Dubious Consent, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Slight Incest, joffrey is crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 06:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14847845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: She was the only gift Joffrey wanted for his name day. And Joffrey would be damned if anyone forbade him to what was his.





	Stupid, Pretty, Little Things

Stupid. That’s what they were. Every single one of them. All women were stupid. 

That’s what ran through Joffrey’s mind as he watched his youngest sister Myrcella play and laugh with her hand maids A stupid little twit. They were all insufferable. Especially. . . 

He turns his head to (y/n). She smiles fondly at her little sister, hands folded on her lap and the wine in front of her untouched. Joffrey notices how the smile falls from her lips, eyes flickering over to him. Once she confirmed that he had indeed been staring at her she scowls and makes a big effort to show that she was ignoring him. 

She was the worst of them all. 

It was his name day feast yet she found it appropriate to snub her brother. The entire day she hadn’t said one nice word to him. Hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge him. 

It made him furious. 

Even more when all of her attention was being showered upon Tommen. 

Clenching his jaw, Joffrey stands from his seat and stomps over to where (y/n) sat. Bright eyes that had been trained on his fat brother turn cold once (y/n) takes notice of how close Joffrey is to her. 

He puts on a charming smile, more so for the onlookers that watched them like hawks. “Dance with me, sister.” 

Brows scrunching at him she narrows her gaze at her older brother. “No thank you.” 

How she loved to test his patience. Patience he didn’t have to begin with. 

Tommen frets beside her. “(y/n), it’s his name day. . .” 

“That’s right. It is my name day.” He leans over to (y/n)’s ear making her flinch in response. Lowering his voice to a biting hiss. “I demand you dance with me. Unless you want to upset mother and make a scene.” 

Pretty lips purse, distaste oozing off of her and something delightful made Joffrey’s spine tingle. “Very well.” (y/n) says in a short manner and pushes out of her seat with a long scraping from the chair’s legs. 

Joffrey smirked as he took (y/n)’s arm, knowing full well that he had won at least this battle. He caught his mother smiling at them. She always loved it when her eldest children got long. Most who lived in the Red Keep knew of (y/n)’s dislike of her brother Joffrey. The Baratheon princess made it clear that she would rather keep company with her younger siblings. Some days she wouldn’t even look at Joffrey unless her mother made her. 

Even as they danced (y/n) tried not to make eye contact with him. They must’ve looked a lovely sight as people stopped in their conversations to watch the siblings. Normally Joffrey wouldn’t bother with stupid things like dancing. He preferred sword fights and tourneys. These frivolous things bored him to death. 

He couldn’t deny though that he liked the feel of (y/n)’s hand in his; even if her grip was limp. The other hand on her waist found itself feeling her up. Her eyes shoot up at him, body immediately freezing. Joffrey grins at her panic. She couldn’t escape. Not until the song was done. (y/n) was his for a few more minutes longer. 

Once the last note faded into silence, (y/n) rips herself away from Joffrey as their audience claps. (y/n) looked like she wanted to strike him. That made his smile widen. 

“As always you’re a good dancer.” 

(y/n) mutters out a quick ‘thank you’ before going back to Tommen and Myrcella, or at least she tried to. She didn’t look back at Joffrey which was why she was caught off guard when Joffrey latches his hand around her wrist. 

He had her now. “How about a kiss, sister?” 

(y/n) bristled, rage bubbling underneath her numb facade. “You already had your dance, _brother_.” 

“Well I want a kiss now.” Joffrey grins. 

Her eyes frantically look at the many observant gazes on her and whispers so quietly “Let me go.” 

Pulling her closer he replies “After you kiss me. On the mouth.” 

Cheeks flushing, he was sure that she would hit him. Hate. That’s what Joffrey found on her face. Pure, unadulterated hate. It gave him butterflies. The way her chest heaved as she struggled. How those luscious lips trembled and made her nose wrinkle in a snarl. 

Taking a deep breath as if to bury her bruised pride, (y/n) gets on her tippy toes and gives a quick peck to the corner of his mouth until Joffrey moves his head ever so slightly. Her lips met his full on. He lets her pull away as she wipes her mouth. 

“That was lovely (y/n).” Cersei coos and goes to her eldest children. 

(y/n) pushes away her mother’s hand and storms off. Probably to let out her rage in the sanctity of her room. 

Joffrey’s lips buzzed, feeling the loss of (y/n)’s. Now he knew the only gift he would ever want was his sister. No one could tell him otherwise.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  


“That vile, little brat!” You scream once you slam the door to your room closed. Vigorously rubbing at your mouth to get the stale taste of him off of you. You didn’t care if it was frowned upon, you begged the Stranger to take your older brother. He was a terrible person and would make a shit king. Joffrey being killed would be a blessing to all of Westeros. From a very young age you had known that Joffrey was the world’s biggest shit. Ever since he nearly suffocated you when you were four. Of course when he was caught he acted oh so innocent, claiming that he was teaching you the art of fighting with pillows. You had never trusted him since then. Yet your coldness only seemed to attract his attention even more. 

After rubbing your lips raw and dry you slump against your door. Body crawling with revulsion at the memory of his hands on you. There was definitely something off about the glint in his eyes. The usual sadism was there, the joy of making other miserable; but there was something else too. Something that made your stomach twist into knots. You didn’t want to think about it, yet the way he had stared at you was burned into your mind. It wasn’t natural for a brother to look that way at his sister. Possessive. Wanting. 

It hadn’t been the first time you had seen that expression. Each time you did though it grew more and more intense like Joffrey couldn’t decide whether to kiss you ro choke you. 

You didn’t feel safe even in your own home. Not as long as Joffrey was there. 

Why couldn’t your mother see how demented he was? Just because he was the first born? Her favorite? At least your father had more sense. Robert Baratheon wasn’t much of a father but at least he took action when he saw first hand Joffrey’s cruelty. If only your mother wasn’t so blind. Tommen should be the one to be king. He was kind hearted and gentle yet you knew given enough time to grow with good influences, Tommen could be strong too. You had complete faith that Tommen would be a wonderful ruler of Westeros. Far better than your father was and what Joffrey would be. 

You would admit that Tommen’s kind heart could potentially be used against him though. That’s why you would protect him so others wouldn’t use him as a pawn. People would eventually see Joffrey’s true nature and once they did not even the King’s Guard would be able to protect him from assassins. 

Someday you would be rid of him. You just had to wait.  
  
~  
  


“(y/n)?” Came a soft voice that you knew so well. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up as a knock followed. You hadn’t bothered to go back to the feast. You had spent enough time in the presence of Joffrey, so you decided to simply go to sleep. 

Darkness had engulfed your room and the sky outside. “Come in sweet lion.” Groggily you mumble with a soft smile. 

Door creaking open and a delicate wisp of light filtered inside. In steps a timid Tommen, his kitten Sir Pounce cuddled in his arms. “You didn’t come back to the party.” 

“I had my fill of festivities. It drained me.” Flipping your blanket off of you slightly, you entice him to crawl in next to you. 

Tommen sets Sir Pounce on your bed first, the kitten immediately makes himself at home. Tommen climbs into your bed and snuggles up next to you. “You looked angry when Joff asked you for a kiss. Is that why you really left?” 

For being so young, Tommen knew you better than anyone in your family; including Myrcella. You loved her just as much but Myrcella didn’t need you as much as Tommen did. She was strong and independent, so much like your mother. Myrcella was fine, she could take care of herself. 

You admit “It did dampen my mood a bit.” Holding Tommen closer to you, you nuzzle your face into his wealth of golden hair. You remember when he was first born, how his little strands of gold looked so fine that they looked like golden thread. From the moment he was born he was your sweet, little, lion cub. “I feel much better now that you’re here though.”  
*  
  
  
  


He liked watching her sleep, witnessing (y/n) in her most vulnerable state. The soft rise and fall of her chest as long lashes kiss her cheeks while she dreamed of sweeter things. All lines of anger and disgust were erased from her features. And (y/n) was none the wiser that Joffrey would visit her in the dead of night. 

From his own room he crept along the darkened corridors of the Red Keep until he made it to the wing where (y/n)’s room resided. Even in pitch black darkness Joffrey memorized every step and every turn to his sister’s room. 

Hands quiet as death, Joffrey presses down on the door handle and silently pushes it open. That night had proved to be a sleepless one for Joffrey as the feel of (y/n)’s lips on his burned his insides and haunted him. He just needed more. Hungry for more. 

When he stepped to the side of the bed that (y/n) preferred he didn’t see his sister’s sleeping form, instead there lay his chubby, baby brother. Tommen was wrapped securely in (y/n)’s arms. Joffrey stopped and stood there, glaring in the dark and frozen with outrage. He wanted to rip the young prince out of there by his hair, to yell at him, perhaps beat him. Anything that would make Tommen hurt. Instead he curled his fingers tightly into his palm. 

(y/n) was his. 

He wouldn’t let even his own brother get between them.  
  
  
  
*  
  


A creak of your door is what brought you out of slumber. Sleepy eyes blink slowly to get accustomed to the dark. Tommen still slept beside you, not having been disrupted from his wonderful dreamland. 

Past the mass of darkness that cloaked your room and slightly blinded you, you make out the sight of your bedroom door slightly ajar. You frown trying to remember if Tommen had closed it all the way. Leaving the comfort of your bed you pad over to your door. When you reach to close it a hand suddenly shoots out from the corridor and grabs you. You squeak as you’re harshly pulled out from your room. 

Struggling, you’re about to attempt to cry for help until you hear a sinister chuckle from the hand that has you. 

“J-Joff?! What in seven hells do you think you’re doing?!” You hiss under your breath and again try to jerk away from him. Only. . . he pulls you hard against him so that your back is flush against his chest, his warm breath cascading over your neck. Every single alarm bell in your head rings as your body screams for release; all while your mouth gapes open, words failing you. 

“You’re quiet for once.” Joffrey hums in approval, the feel of one of his hands creeping under your breast is numb to you as you hold your breath. “You should be like this more often.” He gives your breast a harsh squeeze and you regain yourself. 

Coldness turns your voice into a blade. “What do you want? You shouldn’t be touching me like his.” 

His cruel hand squeezes harder and you have to stop yourself from wincing. “I’ll do whatever I want with you. You’re mine (y/n).” 

“Get off of me!” snapping you twist out of his hold and glare at him. “Have you gone completely mad?!” 

“Oh,” Joffrey takes a menacing step toward you “I’m plenty mad alright. Mad that you pay more attention to our pig of a brother. Mad that you refuse to look at me!” 

Growling, your hands try to find your door. “Piss off Joffrey.” You wouldn’t let on to the fear that was starting to spring in your stomach. That’s what he wanted; what he thrived on. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Although you knew there was plenty to fear from him. He was unstable. That was clear after he killed those newborn kittens. Beneath it all though, he was a brat. A massive cunt that used his title to bully others. That was what you tried to remind yourself. 

“There you go again.” His lip curls into an ugly snarl that scrunched his face up, making the shadows enhance the horror of him. “Acting like you’re better than me, but you’re just a stupid woman.” 

You open your mouth in a rebuttal but he cuts you off “Nevertheless you’re my woman.” 

Sickness makes it difficult for you to speak. You force out your words. “I’m your sister. Bound to you by blood. I will never be your’s. You think Westeros would take kindly to a king who claims to crave after his sister? You’ll remind them too much of the Targaryens. They’ll never-” 

“I don’t give a fuck about what a bunch of peasants think.” Joffrey is too close for your comfort and you can’t see anyway out. “I’ll kill them all. Kill anyone who gets in my way. I will be their king. They have no other choice but to bend the knee and bow down to me. You too, sweet sister.” 

Not the wisest idea or the most ladylike, but you spit in his face and once he goes to wipe it you scurry back inside your room and slam your door shut. It wakes up Tommen but you’re too busy with barring the door and making sure Joffrey wouldn’t be able to get in. 

“(y/n)? What’s wrong?” 

You can’t seem to catch your breath as you throw yourself onto your bed, fingers clinging to the mess of blankets like they could somehow save you from Joffrey’s madness.


End file.
